Betraying Serendipity
by Imaginable
Summary: The wizarding world has abandoned Harry, and he is given every reason to nurture a hatred for them all. When, eventually, he breaks out of the mind and physical prisons he has been detained in, what will he do? Will he help or will he be a little less wi
1. A Haunted Era

Disclaimer:  I own scat, so go away and QUIT BOTHERING ME!

Summary:  The wizarding world has abandoned Harry, and he is given every reason to nurture a hatred for them all.  When, eventually, he breaks out of the mind and physical prisons he has been detained in, what will he do? Will he help or will he be a little less willing? NO-SLASH!

A/N: IN THIS STORY SIRIUS NEVER DIED!  EVERYTHING ELSE HAPPENED, EXCEPT SIRIUS NEVER DIED AT THE END OF THE FIFTH BOOK.  Oh, this may have spoilers too.

**Betraying Serendipity**

_'In trust I have found treason' - _Elizabeth I

Chapter One - A haunted era

Breath.  Gulp.  That was all he had to do.  Breathe.  Survive.  God damn it! Live!  But. . . why? Why? He couldn't remember.  There was a reason.  There was always a reason.  Always.  If, that is, you decided to count the element of 'un-fairness' as reason enough.  And he did.  Life happened, he was of the opinion that it could all, somehow, be reasoned out, that it could all, be brought down to a _basis _for it all.  Well, he had.  Right now he was in no condition to be reasoning about reason.

Breath.  Gulp.  That was all he had to do.  Being where he was sure was making it hard though.  But he needed to survive.  God damn it! Live!  But. . . why? He couldn't remember.  He shouldn't be there! He should be somewhere else! Anywhere but here!  But he wasn't 'anywhere but here' he was here, wherever that was.  His cracked lips parted and what might have been a word was forced out.  The breath of warm air condensed, leaving a white cloud that faded.  Faded.  Gone.

Breath. Gul. . . he stopped breathing.  For a moment he wondered why his thin and frail chest wasn't rising, before realising, and sucking in a shuttling breathe, feeling his body relax, satisfied.  But. . . why?  Why did he need to bother with sucking in the breath?  What would happen if her didn't? Would he. . . die?  He dared not wish as much.

"Potter!" he didn't react, he never did.  He didn't care.  His attention stayed riveted on the wall in front of him.  The auror laughed, a look of cruel glee spreading across his face as he leaned against the open doorway.  Harry, for that is the man's name, still didn't move his unfeeling gaze from the cold grey stones that held his eye.

It was a favourite for the guards; Potter baiting that is.  It was a shame, they often commented to the next person who took their shift; that Potter wasn't a bit more _lively_.  The aurors always complained that they could never get a _rise _out of the sickly creature.

"Look at you now Potter! Look at all the good it did joining you-know-who!" the auror snickered, and wrinkled his nose at the cell that held Harry Potter.  The young auror shook his head in disgust and walked on, continuing his shift.  Harry Potter still hadn't so much as blinked.

The aurors thought that Harry Potter was mad.  They were right.  Harry Potter _was _mad.  Mad.  And, as well as mad, he was crazy.  But that's different.  Mr Potter had no right mind.  He had no mind.  The only things he was capable of thinking, were two words.  

Breath.  Gulp.

_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_

It was twenty-two days later that Minister Shacklebolt came to inspect Azkaban, as was the annual requirement.  Of all the things that the new minister was forced to do, this was his least favourite by far.  Coming here.  To Azkaban.  The wizards prison.

Where convicted murderers were kept.

            Where murderers were locked up.

                        Where night never left and morning never came.

                                    To, as many would call it, hell.

The minister hated it, and he never gave his newspaper to anyone.  Fudges mistake had cost his greatly.  Sirius Black had been captured and locked up, it was impossible for anyone with his magical signature to get out.  Yes, there he was, the mad man Sirius Black.

Shacklebolt shivered.  

            Scary.

They had thought that Sirius Black had in fact been innocent, it just went to prove, they had been wrong.  Sirius Black was _not _innocent.  In fact, he was guilty, as you may have guessed.

Now, I, the author, shall pause here, and reprimand you, because, _we _know what is going to happen, doesn't mean that the dear minister does, in fact I can assure you he doesn't.  If he did, it would never happen, but anyway, enough.  Keep patient.  I'll skip the boring 'and he paced down the corridor. . . '

Gulp.  Breath.  Gulp.  Bre. . . what?  Where? Where? Oh.  Here.

Minister Shacklebolt spun around at the sound of a shout.  But relaxed as he realised it must be one of the prisoners, screaming was not an uncommon sound here in Azkaban.  He turned and shook his head.  Only one cell left.  Just one.

But little did he know that the last cell he would visit that day, would, indeed, be his last.  Well, that's a little _too _ominous, 'cose he doesn't _die _or anything, but still.

When he arrived at his last cell, with his guard of course, it was empty, only a small note remained.  Harry Potter, had left the building.  He screamed.  Harry Potter was loose!

            Loose

                        Loose!

                                    LOOSE!!

"The letter sir!" and the letter indeed.  It had begun to smoke. The scarlet envelope was billowing black smoke as it floated in the air.  Hang on - FLOATED?!? He was snapped out of his thought's as Harry Potter's voice filled the chamber, and for a second, all of the prisoners, even the ones that had lost their mind many, many, years ago, were sane.  But only for a moment; long enough to know what they were.  And hate it.

Harry Potter's voice was not a yell, it had no scorn or hate in it, simply indifference.

"AS YOU HAVE BETRAYED ME, SO YOU SHALL BE BETRAYED" what did it mean? No one knew.  But they were about to find out.

_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_

I mention earlier that all of the prisoners who were mad had gone back to their cosy insanity.  But that would not be true.  For Sirius Black, notorious death eater and a hated man, was once again, sane, and planning how to escape the cell in which he was imprisoned to return his _real _lord.

_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_-'|'-_oOo_

A/N: 'Lo again.  It's me.  The author here, um, this is my newest story, so, hope you is enjoying it.  Sorry it's a bit short and abrupt, but I'm bored and I wanna post it.

Um, Please review, because, I'm not updating until I get five reviews, so, sorry.  But, if I put in effort I want reward.  I'm a pretty busy person these holidays, and hate little time to spend of writing it no one is gonna read.  (My computer is as dead as a tack dats been run over by a train, so I'm using my dads when I can get my sticky little paws on it, which, unfortunately, is not all that often!)

 So, See ya folks and folkess's, I'm off!

 Imaginable  ~^.^~


	2. A Mundane Art

Disclaimer:  I'm not important, so, like all unimportant people, I have reason to believe that the extent of this fic, does not go so far as to be at all profitable to me or mine, nor to enable me to claim ownership over an idea that seems so coveted by many a person that find themselves indulging in a little fic such as this one.  Ok.  Enough.  I don't own anything. And they all lived happily ever after.

Summary:  The wizarding world has abandoned Harry, and he is given every reason to nurture a hatred for them all.  When, eventually, he breaks out of the mind and physical prisons he has been detained in, what will he do? Will he help or will he be a little less willing? NO-SLASH!

A/N: IN THIS STORY SIRIUS NEVER DIED!  EVERYTHING ELSE HAPPENED, EXCEPT SIRIUS NEVER DIED AT THE END OF THE FIFTH BOOK.  Oh, this may have spoilers too.

**Betraying Serendipity**

_We cannot tear out a single page of our life, but we can throw the book in the fire' __ - George Sand_

            __

Chapter 2 - A Mundane Art

Perhaps it would be easy to assume that Sirius Black had no chance of escaping, after all, he inhabited the second most highly guarded cell in the entire building.  After all, he was mad and more than a little starved.  But, when thinking about an important thing, one must carefully assess the situation before _assuming_.  After all, the man who had been in the top security cell, thought I_m_**po**s_i_b**l_e _**to get out of, had just escaped, and done, Sirius was reluctant to say, a fine job of it too.

So if Harry Potter could get away, then surely...  It hung, carefully placed over his muzzled nose.  Tempting.  Freedom.  But how was he to gain it?  He'd done it before! He'd managed to do it once! _Mind you_, he reflected, _back then, I was innocent_.  But fate, it seemed to Black, worked in mysterious ways.  Because only seconds after the magnified voice of Harry Potter had rung through the deserted corridors, Sirius Black was given his chance.

_-'*'-_

To any normal, or, for that matter, not so normal person, the young man sitting on the London bound bus was just as they were.  Normal.  Each in their own specified sense of the word of course.  But he wasn't.  He was very - uh - _un_normal.  He was wearing baggy jeans, a tight black top, trainers, and a long, leather over coat that would have looked suspicious on anyone else.  But he wasn't anyone else.  He looked, just fine.

Except for his eyes.  

But dark lenses that would have reflected your own face, had you been brave enough to stare at them, covered his startling green eyes.  No one was brave enough though, so the, precaution? Is that the word? was pointless anyway.

A gloved hand irritably pushed back messy locks, the motion, although slow and seemingly careless, could be seen to make his hand tremble.  He quickly pocketed it again.  Where had he been? Where was he heading? What would he do?  He didn't know. Slowly, his mind was crawling about, picking up a small piece of glass, and smiling as it remembered where that piece had belonged.  But then the glass cut him, making him bleed sorrow and hatred.  

Hatred.

No; not hatred.  Loathing.  Despising.  Not hatred.  Worse than hatred. 

The bus stopped and he looked up, jerked out of his thoughts.  He clambered up, passing a bunch of giggling girls on his way to the door.  Nodding to the bus driver, he jumped of the bus, his cloak swirling behind him as if he had come straight from the set of _The Matrix_.  The girls giggled some more, seemed they were getting off too.  He ignored them.  He was good at ignoring people.

One of them however had caught his eye.  How old were they? The didn't look old enough to be wondering through London.  There were murders in London.  Bad people.

But they didn't seem aware of this; they chatted together, laughing, shouting, giggling, the group of them, pleated skirts, skin-tight tops, and designer shoes.  He ignored them and walked into a shop called the leaky cauldron.  They didn't even see him disappear, and if they had, it would have seemed to be just like that.  Into thin air.  As if he had turned invisible, or, perhaps, as if he didn't, and never had, existed.

They giggled on, unaware that a mass murder had just passed through their midst.

_-'*'-_ 

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" the voice of one highly distinguished Minister of Magic could almost certainly be heard in the US, so it was no surprise that Sirius Black had heard it.  he blinked.  Umm... Okkk...

"WHY CAN'T WE GET OUT?!" And that was when inspiration struck.  Golden, wonderful, delightful, simply magnificent, superb, breathtaking, amazing, brilliant inspiration.  'Why can't we get out' huh?  Well Sirius Black had been asking himself that for a couple of years now, and, as of yet, the question was still unanswered.  And so, like any madman worth his salt would do.  Sirius Black laughed.

The complaints from the minister and his party were cut short as the maniacal laughter filled the black corridors of the wizarding prison.

"Be quiet you creature!" the weak voice of a ministry employee just mad Black laugh harder.  Eventually his wheezing laughs turned into grating coughs and he came to a chuckling stop.

"You fool.  You blithering idiotic fool" he paused and chuckled lowly again before uttering mockingly; "you could get life for this"

"Wha - what do you mean?" Black paused, and looked at the opposite wall thoughtfully, or at least, sort of thoughtfully. 

"False imprisonment, I thought that was a crime?" the answer was immediate, if a little more than sum what confused.

"It is" Sirius smiled a twisted smile all Azkaban inn mates seemed to have.

"It's been delivered, life in Azkaban.  You are charged with false imprisonment" he stood up and walked to the door of his cell, watched closely by all of the aurors and ministry men.

"With lying to the court and providing false information" he pushed the door of his cell, and it swung open, much to the amazement of the others.

"With not allowing the accused a legal defendant" he walked menacingly towards them, they cringed back from him, as if he was some horrific disease.

"With being complete assholes and ruining mine, and others I'm sure, life's" he picked up a wand that was lying on the floor, and inspected it closely.

"You are hereby found guilty of the above crimes and sentenced with the punishment life imprisonment within Azkaban, the wizarding prison" he smiled at the seven people who lay scattered in Harry Potters cell.  Walked over, and clicked the big brass lock into place.  He turned to leave, but paused a second.

"I'll add one more to the list; betraying people who put their trust in you.  That's the worst Shakelbolt.  _That's _the worst." with a laud 'pop' Sirius Black disappeared, leaving the Minister of Magic and six other faithful employees stranded in locked prison cell, on a deserted island, surrounded by various types of sharks, a thousand kilometres from land in the middle of the pacific ocean.  

Appearing in France, he grinned, and muttered something inaudible to himself.

If you had have been listening closely, or had you been Black, or had he wanted to tell you, you would have heard the condescending sentence that he spoke, but you didn't and you aren't and _he_ didn't so you just have to settle with the shortened version;

"Oops"

_-'*'-_

"You can do this Black, just one little spell" the muttered comforts to himself did little good; he was scared of the wand in his hand, and of what he knew he had to do.  He paused and looked at the wand, rubbed his head and swore.  Finally he gathered his courage.

In one quick movement, Sirius Black had pointed the wand in his hand to his temple and fired a quick spell.  If there had been a wizard around he would have known just what happened, but there wasn't one; Sirius Black was completely alone, as was the word he spoke.

"OBLIVIATE"

_-'*'-_

A/N: Here it is.  I'll post again soon, in about a week hopefully.  

Big thankyou to everyone who reviewed! I hope this chap meets you expectations.

**Blue Flame Angel - **Yes, both Harry and Sirius are, or were, in jail.  It will be explained later when they meet each other face to face, but it's a little more complicated than just sitting down and talking it over, as this chapter might warn you.  And Harry had been in jail for three and a half years, he went in when he was seventeen and a bit, so he'd be about twenty-one and three quarters.****

**Emily-Dufleng - ****Scrapes foot along the ground** they're still reviews, aren't they? At least I know people thought it _might _have been a decent fic. . .  But, I won't put any AN's in the middle unless I _really _have too.  ^.~

Ciao for now.

Imaginable  ~^.^~


	3. The Crime of Innocence

Disclaimer:  I own only the theme and a few other odds and ends.  I'm not _trying _to steal anything, so if I do, just warn me and I'll so something about it.  Once again.  I don't own it.  Bye.    

Summary:  The wizarding world has abandoned Harry, and he is given every reason to nurture a hatred for them all.  When, eventually, he breaks out of the mind and physical prisons he has been detained in, what will he do? Will he help or will he be a little less willing? NO-SLASH!

A/N: IN THIS STORY SIRIUS NEVER DIED!  EVERYTHING ELSE HAPPENED, EXCEPT SIRIUS NEVER DIED AT THE END OF THE FIFTH BOOK.  Oh, this may have spoilers too.

**Betraying Serendipity**

_'Get your facts first, then you can distort them as much as you please' - _Mark Twain

Chapter 3 - The Crime of Innocence

"What did you say you're name was again?" the confused police officer asked in an ill-disguisedly bored voice.  

"Uh..."

"Oh come on man! What is your name?"

"I don't remember"

"Bull.  What's your name?"

"I told you - "

"'You can't remember' yeah, yeah, pull the other one! What. Is. Your. Name?"

"I swear, I really can't remember!" The black haired man looked terrible.  His hair was mattered with dried blood and his skin seemed to be coated in a heavy layer of dirt and grim, he reminded the officer of Frodo from lord of the rings where only the hobbits eyes seemed to be clean.  He sighed and folded his arms, finally accepting the unlikely story the other man told.  Silently he begged god not to make this too complicated.  It seemed god was either out to dinner or didn't exist.

"Ok.  Can you tell me exactly what you remember from when you woke up" the other man sighed, obviously just as sick and tired of it all as the officer was.  For a moment the policeman felt a certain kinship with the other, and then it was gone.  Both men sighed.

"I was standing on Kipping St when I guess you could say I 'woke up' but it's was just like I suddenly couldn't remember anything.  I had this stick in my hand, and I swear at first I thought it was a wand or something - " the policeman interrupted, frowning.

"Say again?"

"Huh?"

"The stick, anything else about it?" The blue-eyed man scrunched up his eyes, as if tying to remember something important.  After a moment he sighed and shook his head regretfully.  

"I chucked it into a bush before I realised that I didn't even know who I was.  When I realised I looked for it, but I couldn't find it at all, do you think it might be important? I could look again?" he was frowning, obviously still trying to remember who he was, why he had been wandering the streets of Yew York at midnight, and why he couldn't remember a thing about his life.  He sighed again and a dejected look came over his face.

"Ok then, well, I dunno what to do with you.  For all I know you might be some escaped delusional mental character" he stopped at the outraged look on the others face, he had to stop himself from laughing out laud "well you might be, you can't remember can you?"

"I think I'd know if I were unbalanced in the mind" finally the policeman broke out into a fit of laughter, drawing a reluctant grin from the other man.

"Nah, don't worry, 'the mad never think they're mad'" 

"But I _don't _think I'm mad.  That's the point"

"I know, that's how _I _know you _are _mad" and with that, a good friendship was forged.  Well, as good as any one friendship can get in these troubled times.

_-'*'-_

"Are you afraid?" the mans voice came out in a low hiss, making the other man he held pushed up against the wall shiver with the fear the man projected.  But he nodded none the less. The other hissed happily.

"Good, I like people who are afraid of me; people who are afraid of me like me too.  They live longer" a sudden _thump _signified that the man against the wall was no longer 'the man against the wall' but instead 'the man lying in a crumpled heap on the floor'.  He stood up shakily, evidently trying to reach for a wand that just wasn't there.  Harry Potter laughed.

"Oh come on; you can do better then that Mr Ollivander, this is a wand shop after all" there was a momentary pause before the white haired Ollivander gathered his courage.

"I know who you are and I know what you want" Harry Potter rolled his eyes, how very cliché.

"Good" a pause in which no one moved slowly crawled by "Well, are you going to give it to me then? If you 'know' what it is, it might be helpful for you health records" talk about cliché he mentally smacked himself.  The man before him just quivered and Harry guessed what was coming; the whole 'great' and 'terrible' and 'I trusted you' speech; he'd heard it before.  He sighed heavily and pulled a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture before snapping at the wand maker again.

"For gods sake man! Give me the wand! I don't have time for this!" his patience was wearing thin, and even the noble and righteous Ollivander didn't want to be there when it finally broke.  He gulped visibly and Harry was amused to almost see the small cogs working in the mans head.  He relaxed when the ancient wizard tottered around to his desk and pulled out a black box.  Harry Potter grinned.  Oh the irony of it all.

"Black?" He couldn't help but mutter, "You shouldn't have!" he received no reply as the elderly wizard slowly, reluctantly handed Harry back his wand.  He took it with reverence before a look that can only be described as glee tore across his face and in a second, the dignified Harry Potter was dancing around the room in a cloud of all coloured sparks.  Thanking god and his board of governors Harry happily, no, _gleefully_, turned back to a pale Ollivander.  And hugged him.  Ok, hugged?  HUGGED?  The man is a mass murderer for Mars sake; does he really have to hug?  But so full of glee was he that he barely noticed.

"Are you going to kill me now?" the question brought him back to earth and he jumped hurridly away from the other man.

"Woh. Scary.  Remind me never to do that again" he paused thoughtfully before adding completely unhelpfully "ever".  He grinned once more as he looked down at his wand.

"Of everything that I missed when I was in Azkaban, I have to admit, my wand was one of the top on my list, and that's saying something, my list consisted of roughly two-hundred and seventy-three point three things, I never did get to finish it" he waved the wand happily, almost bouncing up and down in joy when a multitude of blood-red sparks shot out the end of it.

"Oooh! I can't wait to get the rest of this things on my list! This one wasn't even in the top twenty and I feel like I'm on E again..." he trailed of somewhat guiltily before remembering that he was meant to be a vicious backstabbing bastard.  

"What were you saying?" the old man stuttered for a moment while Harry waited patiently, gently tapping his foot against the floor.

"A-are you going to kill me now?" this time when he spoke it was not with the confidence yet total fear he had possessed before; it was with total and utter confusion.  Harry simply looked confused.

"Why would I want to do that? I got my wand for free, thanks for that by the way, I feel high, thanks for that too, oh, hang on; that sounds bad.  Um, thanks for the wand again.  But, yeah, why would I wanna kill you?"  Mr Ollivander blinked.

"You did say your name was harry Potter didn't you? You know... the death eater, kills people for no aparant reason, hates all muggles, serves you-know-who, that Harry Potter?"

"No, you guessed I was Harry Potter"

"So your not?"

"No, I am"

"Then why are you so god damned GOOD?"

"I'm Harry Potter, I'm suposd to be good"

"No your not, you suposed to be a death eater"

"Since when"

"Since you were convicted for being one"  
  


"Well that makes no sense"

"And why, may I ask, not?"

"Because, stricktly speaking, I wasn't _convicted _of anything"

"And _that _makes sense beacouse..."

"I never had a trial, you can't be convicted if you don't have a trial"

"But your guilty!  Everyone knows that!"

"Who's 'everyone'?"

"Everyone! Your guilty!"

"How do you know?"

"There were witnesses! You're as guilty as Sirius Black!"

"Is that meant to be a compliment? Or an insult?"

"It's meant to prove my point!"

"Welll, it doesn't because he was framed too, remember?"

"What are you on about?  Sirius Black was a death eater!"

"No he wasn't!"

"Yes he was!"

"No he wasn't!"

"Yes he was!"

"Prove it then!"

"Go to the ministry and ask them! I don't have all the evidense! It was in the papers!"  
  


"Oh, right, and everything in the papers is true huh?"

"STOP MESSING WITH MY MIND!"  Luckily at this point the bell that signaled the arrival of a custemor in the shop tinkled and a young girl accompanied by two obvious muggle parents entered the wand shop.  The looked nervously at the two men and sat on the provided chairs.

"I'm sorry if we're interupting, do go right on ahead" Harry raised an eyebrow before bowing eloquently to the lady, who looked to be ing her mid-thirtys.  

"We were just finishing, please, don't let me stop you from your buying, i'm sure that Mr Ollivander would be quite annoyed at me if i did" he smiled at her calmly before turning back to a fuming wand maker.  He grinned micheviously and put his dark glasses back on before saluting in the traditional army salute and exiting the shop giggling behind his hand, wand held securly in one of his pockets.

Mr Olivander for a moment looked far away befoe snapping his attention back to the bouncing young girl.  He sighed.  He had just been burgled by a loose convict and here he was serving the next custemor no questions asked.  What was the world coming to? He smilled at the statement before handing the girl a wand.

"Yew, Dragon heartstring, odd combination, but firm"

Perhaps the phrase would be better 'when had it happened and why had it walked straight past?'

_-'*'-_

A/N: Now _that _was wierd.  Sorry.  I feel really weird.  I just had an argument with my dad and I should be writing all angsty but I'm writing failed humor? Oh my god!  Talking about that, sorry to any people out there who belief god is just a pile of tissue paper trying to look like a cloud in the heavens.  I'm really not that keen on him either.  Sorry to those of you who think he's gods gift to the earth.  I agree with you too.  Tissue papers fun to play with.

Special thank to my reviewers (those of you who bothered anyway) ****

And you lot remember! If I don't get enough reviews this story ain't go'in no where.

See y'all!

Imaginable


	4. Rent in Three

Disclaimer: I own only the theme and a few other odds and ends. I'm not _ trying _to steal anything, so if I do, just warn me and I'll so something about it. Once again. I don't own it. Bye. 

Summary: The wizarding world has abandoned Harry, and he is given every reason to nurture a hatred for them all. When, eventually, he breaks out of the mind and physical prisons he has been detained in, what will he do? Will he help or will he be a little less willing? NO-SLASH!

A/N: Sorry this took so long, things have been getting… Complicated.

** Betraying Serendipity**

_"I do not believe that friends are necessarily the people you like best, they are merely the people who got there first"_ – Peter Ustinov

Chapter 4 – Rent in three

"Hello sir, can I help you at all?" the clerk smiled at the man, flicking blond hair over her shoulder expertly and fluttering her eyelashes. Harry had to fight hard not to raise an eyebrow. 

"Yes, thankyou, I'd like to enrol in the arts-law degree for this year" her eyes flickered in a barley perceptible way, before the fake smile, once again replaced any doubt that might have clouded her face. 

"Do you have your HSC score or any other recommendations?" He smiled, making sure that his own look of annoyance was well hidden. His nod was short and jerky. If the girl across the desk noticed, she ignored it. He handed over the papers. 

"Thankyou sir! That's very helpful, I'll see what I can do for you" her brightly painted fingertips flashed over they keyboard in front of her as she typed in the information the sheet contained. Silence reigned. Suddenly she looked up, twirling a sparkly earring with one hand, he gritted his teeth in annoyance.

"Sir, you haven't put your name down here" he barely even looked at the paper, shaded eyes rested piercingly on the clerk. He smirked, something that seemed to hold very little humour. The smile on her face faltered.

"Why of course. So silly of me" he grabbed the paper and provided pen before scribbling down _Harry Potter _in no uncertain lettering. This time the grin that flashed on his lips was genuine, although not entirely innocent, far more… _ malicious._

The secretary smiled another false smile at him, before glancing down at the paper. And screaming. Loudly. He almost rolled his eyes, but resister the erg, barely, such things were not expected from evil dark lords, and while he didn't particularly consider himself the 'evil dark lord' he was neither the epitome of all things good and wonderful.

He sniggered at the thought. 

Images of what Voldemort would do in his position began to flood the gates to his mind, in fact, imaged of Voldemort doing some very odd things, completely unrelated to the fact the secretary seemed to have temporarily died flashed through his mind, but he repressed them; quickly deciding that seeing in ones mind eye a picture of Voldemort running around in a chicken costume with no head would not be appreciated here, although if he could somehow manage it… 

He leaned forward towards the blond, effectively cutting off any view of the outside world the lady might once have had. 

"Is there a problem miss?" Oh, there was a problem right. The girl in front of him was just about to sign an escaped convict into the college.

But no, apparently, there was no problem. 

Silently he smirked.

No problem at all.

_-'*'-_

There was a short pause, in fact, it might have even be a long one, no one much noticed. Silence stretched like taunt silk, smooth and deceptive, dying as soon as it was touched. 

Suddenly a small hiccoughing cough could be heard, and instantly the illusory silence that he had been contemplating vanished like snowflakes in summer, it was a miracle it had existed at all. Laud voices could be heard, each trying to voice their own opinion. Silence was a thing of the past.

He sighed, but none of them noticed, strictly speaking, they didn't know he was there. 

In this particular case, what they didn't know couldn't hurt them. Strictly speaking. After a few moments of shouting and general all round confusion there was another silence, but not nearly so complete as it had been before. He turned his head, waiting for the speech he knew was coming, he even knew what it would likely discuss, but that wasn't saying much.

"Members, we must first remember that we are here to find a solution to the problem" he had to stop the choked laughter that was bubbling up inside him before he was thrown out. It seemed, however, that he was the only one close to laughing; the others were all watching the white bearded man seriously. 

He had nothing but scorn for them. But he wasn't going to test this feeling, emotions, he had found, were fickle things; the smallest change in things and… well, bye-bye cover.

"While the discussions about how dangerous the escapee's are, might be interesting, the have no real purpose except, perhaps, to lower our defence and stop our attacks. Please, we must, instead of focussing on the problem, as I said before, focus on the solution. What can we do to get Potter and Black back into Azkaban? And, even more importantly, do we really want to put them back in?" the silence stretched again, this time much more brittle than it had been the two previous times. He knew what was going on in there heads; questions, questions and questions.

After all, why, they were all wondering, wouldn't they want to put the two convicts back into prison. After all they had done.

A silent snarl issued from his lips, and he was moderately surprised to note the old headmasters head jerked in his direction. He shut up, returning his attention to the order members. He took note that it looked like one of them was about to speak.

"Headmaster, I don't quite understand what you said about not wanting to put Potter and Black back into Azkaban, it's only what they deserve" Harry noticed, with almost unrealistic fascination, that the speaker was none other than Remus Lupin. He hunkered forward, waiting to hear the reply Dumbledore made.

"I fear Remus, that the time had come to supply the dementors with a little extra encouragement" the simple sentence had eyes widening all around the table, all eyes except for Serverus Snape's, his did exactly the opposite, and narrowed.

He stood up, without even bothering to ask permission and began to speak.

"What the headmaster is leaving out, however, is the fact that we might be able to reform Potter, although Black might be a little less easy" from his hideaway Harry snorted. Reform? Reform what? He had nothing to reform! 

Again Dumbledore's slight shift in position as Harry again fought giggles, was noted by few, but nonetheless, noted. Severus Snape had the delicacy to run his eyes over the room before returning to Dumbledore and Harry just stayed where he was, enjoying the multiple threads of intellect and intrigue that were running around the room. 

"You mean, he might go back to being… the same old Harry?" Mrs Weasley's voice was soft and held so much emotion it was foreign to Harry, but this time, as much as he tried, he was unable to contain the snort of laughter that erupted from him. No one heard it of course, except for himself and three others. 

In less than two seconds Harry was being attacked, one of the people attacking him had no idea where he was, but the other two were well aware, and the third followed their lead. 

He flipped into the air until he had landed in the seat Dumbledore, only moments before, had vacated in favour of shooting him down with several nasty curses. In a second he was visible, messy hair, vivid green eyes and all. Silence, he noted, again stretched across the room; Dumbledore, Snape and Moody had all stoped trying to kill him for the time being at least. 

He waved to them, and was moderately surprised when a middle-aged lady with greying hair waved back at him cheerily. For a moment her blinked at her, processing the information that her eyes were different colours (Fluoro blue and striped black and pink) before he realised that she must be Tonks.

"Wotcha Tonks! How've ya been?" if she was surprised by the statement she didn't show it. 

"Worried sick about you Harry! Running away from Private Drive like that! Despicable!" she was grinning wildly, and he noted that the old lady was quickly turning into a young one about his own age, he arched an eyebrow at the assembly, wondering why Tonks was doing as she was.

"Well, things to do, people to see, (A/N: Oh how I was tempted to put in 'people to kill' but that just wouldn't do!) you lot know the drill, busy, busy, busy!" Tonks's hair was now a lustrous auburn, giving the impression that her hair was coated in red gold. She nodded solemnly as he reclined in the great chair, propping his feet up onto the table, which gave a little squawk of indignation. He brought his foot up a few inches and then slammed it back down, not even looking back down to pay attention to the table's snivels. 

"Know whatcha mean. What with all these dark lords running around…" she trailed off, not looking remotely uncertain, the threat, if it could be called that, was evident in her tone. He shrugged in reply. 

"Sure, sure, they do seen to have some bad tendencies to go and do things you'd rather they didn't, but then, that's life" he said in a fake sad tone, before he pretended to wipe a tear from his eye with an exaggerated sniff. Tonks nodded again, but her eyes, he noted with a mental laugh, were narrowed on him with something akin to confusion.

"Like killing and torturing people for fun?" she asked her voice surprisingly still light and cheerful. He grinned viciously, showing his canines in a cruel imitation of a smile.

"Yes, things like that" he paused for a moment, head cocked to the side as he very obviously looked her up and down, his eyes lingering so the rest of the order had a very clear idea of what he was thinking. He stood up and stretched, automatically dodging the spell that came towards him from a very irate Snape. 

He yawned, showing his contempt.

"I can see you've already started on the 'reform' but I'd like to ask exactly, what you will be reforming?" he turned so he was eye to eye with his old headmaster, turning his back on Snape, to show he didn't find the greasy haired potions master a threat. A low growl behind him, alerted the rest of the room that Snape was not pleased. Harry couldn't keep the radiant smile off his face.

"Dumbledore"

"Harry"

"It's Potter, but I guess Harry'll do. I have come to discuss the matter of Sirius Black with you" the headmaster nodded, eyes still locked with the young boy before him.

"Give up the search" Of all the things the order had expected, they had not expected this. Dumbledore seemed to be considering it.

"I am sorry Harry, but giving up the search for Sirius Black is not an option. It's just something that can't be done. The search for him, is of course nothing like the search for you, and if I were to pull it off then people might become suspicious, stricktly speaking there should be more wizards out searching for him than there are. I cannot agree to your request" Harry stayed silent for a while, but his eyes, Albus noted, had hardened. 

"It was not a request, Dumbledore. It was an order; Pull. Off. The. Search" Listening to the silence this time, Harry was again struck at how different the silence was; it was an echoing one. No one was going to break this unless they had to. Thinking about that made him think of the other silences he had been cataloguing throughout his life, for a moment his mind barriers weakened enough for the two master legitims (Sp?) in the room to dive in quickly. 

The scared silence before the spell was spoke, and the deadly one after. The silence of hope and the silence of reaction. The silence of truth and the silence of knowing truth. The silence of life; and the silence that one could only hear when confronted with death. The silence that came after. His mind was filled with that cold silence. 

Both Dumbledore and Snape went a rather ashen colour as he powerfully threw them from his mind. All they had seen was silence, but it had been far too laud for either of them to bear. His eyes, a moment before, flat and lifeless suddenly blazed with spirit and righteous anger as he almost screamed…

"STAY OUT OF MY MIND!" It had ripped from him, full of passion and fairness that it momentarily shocked everyone in the room, including himself. 

"You may not like what you see" And again. Silence was absolute. He turned to Dumbledore, his composure, once again showing only arrogant distaste.

"You will halt the search or face the consequences of every single person you put on his trail, being put straight onto another" for a few in the room, this was not that bad a threat at all, so Potter would interfere and make false tracks, they'd get the right ones eventually! For the others, there was a rush of murmurs, before silence once again reigned. 

"After you have done that, you will call off the search for me" he paused, eyes glittering with malevolent hate. 

"Quiet frankly Dumbledore, if it's you arse or mine… Well, I promise I will attend the funeral, but I'll decline on actually saying anything, something might just slip out that really shouldn't have. I mean, it might be similar to the fact that you were the one who created the… well we all know what we're talking about don't we? Or a bit more damaging, perhaps something about the summer of 1912?" Dumbledore's eyes, surprisingly enough were twinkling at the threats. Harry had to fight to not grind his teeth together in frustration.

"It's nice to know you still have your old spirit Harry" Shadowed eyes darkened. Tone grew chilled. Posture changed. Hands stoped moving. Muscles tensed.

"Nice? Yes. Nice indeed" for a moment the eye contact was kept between the old headmaster and the young convict, before a smile tugged up the lips of the raven haired man and he laughed, quite genuinely, with an odd amount of hysteria lacing the sound. At large, the room flinched away from the unnatural sound.

"Oh Dumbledore, never change" the smile faded and the eyes, still protected by dark tinted sunglasses seemed saddened. He paused and glanced at the floor. 

"Sir? I was just thinking, I mean, a guy's gotta have something to do while reclining in Azkaban, but I was just thinking, do you know if either Ron or Hermione ever got married, or even, if they're still alive? As you may be aware, we have had very little contact and I'm beginning to regret it… I mean, not knowing if your best mates are married or not is pretty traumatizing" he smiled charmingly, cocking his head to the side in an absolutely adorable way (A/N: Don't you just love guy's who look all innocent and sweet while also absolutely hot? They look like puppy dogs who've learned how to prank). 

"Yes, quite, they happen to be married Harry. Both of them, to each other" Harry's face instantly broke up into a grin and he shouted a 'yes' while thrusting his fist into the air.

"Hell yeah! Woohoo! Woohoo! Woohoo! Go mee! Go mee! Go mee! Uh huh! Uh huh! Uh huh! YES! YES! YES! YAY!" everyone of the order members were painfully reminded that the person before them was indeed a Azkaban escapee. Several of them turned away, discreetly trying to hide their laughs.

"Ok, ok, ok, ok, well in that case… Bill, Snape, Neville and Luna all owe me a galleon! I told them they'd get married! I told them!" he was grinning and his eyes, for the first time in an age, seemed to loose the silence that came after. Suddenly he seemed to remember where he was, and straightened up; pushing the sunglasses up the bridge of his nose as he forced his face into a calm and neutral expression.

"Well, that's all I came for, so I'll be off now! Good to see you all! Hope I have the pleasure again soon" he smiled and held out his hand to the silver bearded man opposite him.

"Yes, I am sure. I do, however, have one question for you before you leave, Harry" the dark man paused, waiting. 

"Do you know where Bellatrix Lestrange is?" He noticed, with confusion that Harry had clenched his fist so tight that his nails were digging into the skin of his hand. Blood dripped onto the floor. Harry, meanwhile, simply smirked.

"Oh I know where she is alright, most certainly" he said nothing more, and nobody was brave enough to question him further. 

"Well, thankyou for your hospitality, but like I said, I really must be going now" he mock saluted, and apparated the hell out. 

_Do I know where Bellatrix is? _He grinned. Oh he knew where Bellatrix was. 

_Six fucking feet under._

He smiled, banishing his problems. Things were finally getting better, slowly, but surely things were getting better. For once in his life, they were going his way. 

Oh yes, wether it was getting into University of calling of an international search for a murderer. Harry Potter got whatever he wanted it, whenever he wanted it.

He grinned. 

Much better.

_-'*'-_

A/N: Thankyou for being so patient with me. As you will find out in later chapters of 'the breaking of the rules', IT, better known as my father, deleted the next three chapters I had of this story by re-imaging the computer I was using at the time (his laptop) cose _mine _was in IT. So, you see, I can trace all of this back to my school computer technicians. 

I also lost some other chapters in a story I haven't posted yet but planed too (Oh Touché). All in all I lost a lot of stuff and I'm pretty pissed off about it, but I cooled down somewhat, so I've finally bought myself to start and finish this chapter. 

It wasn't as good as the original.

Screw it all.

Imaginable ~^.^~


End file.
